You're still my bro, bro
by Vianerd
Summary: Oneshot, fluffy. Based on the cartoon, takes place a while after the episode 'Say Uncle Hoofy'. As Fergy accompanies his popular "brother" Hudson, he notices there seems to be less fans of the Horstachio about. When they return to his home, Hudson shows a rarely-seen sensitive side and lets Fergy in on a little secret; that his popularity is slowly fading... or so it seems.


It was a bright and sunny day over Piñata Island, and for once, Professor Pester wasn't up to no good. In fact, the bad guy had decided to take a holiday on a nearby island not too far away from Piñata Island itself, so everything was peaceful, much to the delight of the more friendly inhabitants.

Hudson Horstachio, as not only the most popular but also the busiest piñata on the island, was as bright and cheerful as the day today, and was out and about to have a meet-and-greet with his fans.  
Except this time, he was not alone.  
Accompanying him was Fergy, his… step-brother. (It's complicated.) Hudson's agent had insisted he took him along to appear like a social family piñata – would be good for his image, she said. Hudson wasn't entirely sure about it at all. Because unlike him, Fergy was a Fudgehog, a small, unsightly piñata – at least, that was what he thought of him – and clumsy too, with a lot of poor manners to make it all even worse. Not to mention he had a notorious mean streak sometimes and was very good at running away from his responsibilities. So basically, they were polar opposites of each other.  
While Hudson was scribbling down autographs on whatever he got offered by his many fans, the Fudgehog kept bumping into him, childishly distracted by a Flutterscotch that fluttered by or something similar to that.  
"Fergy, stop that," the Horstachio hissed while handing over the now-autographed photo of himself to a devoted fan who skipped away gleefully. "Just stay there and don't move, okay? I only need to pat your head every once in a while. Makes me look sweet, y'know."  
Fergy didn't pay it any heed. As he looked around, he noticed there weren't that many fans as he thought there'd be. Hudson had told him stories – of how many fans he had, and how there were hundreds of them and they all adored him equally. But this seemed a bit underwhelming compared to those stories. There weren't hundreds, just a few tens. Maybe even less than ten, and a bunch of photographers.  
Shrugging it off, he looked up at the taller piñata with a dumb smirk on his face. "Really? But standing around is boring. How do I look?" He flipped his sunglasses which he brought to look a little bit cooler in front of his eyes and tried to look tough.  
"Like a complete and utter…" Hudson looked at the crowd and noticed a few paparazzi Pudgeons among them, capturing his every movement and word. "…Adorable brother, that's what!"  
Smiling for the camera, he pulled the Fudgehog into a sappy hug, never once losing that smile – it would be disastrous if they got his bad side on tape. And so the photographing began.  
Fergy probably would never admit it, but he rather liked the hug, giving another dumb smirk and closing his eyes. If the loud chatter of Hudson's fans wasn't around, one could've almost heard him purr.  
"Stupid paparazzi..."  
Without even looking at him, Hudson pushed Fergy away harshly as soon as the photographing session was over, dusting himself off as if he just had to hold something dingy. Fergy seemed a bit hurt, partly from the push but mostly emotionally, but he tried to remain stoic.  
"Why am I doing this again? I'm not even cool," Fergy said. He knew darn well he did this to get away from going to yet another party he had to miss – even if he still seemed convinced that even with permission to do so, Langston was still hiding in a bush somewhere with that awful, awful net of his, ready to jump at the chance to chase after him. And there was another feeling he couldn't quite place. "I wanna go home…"  
But he was ignored. Hudson was being interviewed and had no time to pay his small companion any heed.  
"No, we're not related by candy. My uncle married his mother and it all kinda went from there… it's weird, I know. I'm still handsome, though."  
Fergy rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bother with this windbag…" luckily for him, he spoke softly enough for him to not hear.  
They stood there for half an hour, more or less, before every fan and reporter seemed to have disappeared (even if a particular piñata by the name of Beverly Badgesicle took a bit more time than the others) and Hudson stretched out his limbs.  
"Well then, all in a day's work!" he stated almost a bit triumphantly and turned around, taking the first few steps on his way back to his home. "You coming, Fergs?"  
The Fudgehog yawned, which was followed by a careless shrug. "Yeah, whatever…" To extend his Langston-free day, Fergy decided to just follow behind. What'd he have to lose, anyway?

He had forgotten just how big Hudson's house was. And it all looked so small and simple on the outside – looks were deceiving, apparently. As he reclined on the expensively-padded couch, his eyes followed whatever Hudson was up to. He was going up and down the chairs, carrying all kinds of gadgets and doodads and trinkets, and going up and down the stairs again, stopping to look at himself in a mirror… it was making him feel tired by merely looking at that Horstachio go.  
"Slow down, you're gonna pop something," Fergy called after his larger friend jokingly.  
Hudson paused his running for a moment. "Of course not. You wanna know why I do this? Well, uh, of course, I usually have people who do this for me, and I'm just…"  
He cut himself off, raising an eyebrow when Fergy uttered an obnoxiously long-winded yawn.  
"Not interested, I see." He sat down on the couch next to the Fudgehog, looking down with his hooves on his knees. "But guess what; I'm gonna tell you anyway."  
It seemed tough for him somehow. Finally, Fergy said something. "I'll listen to you if you'll rub my belly. Eye for an eye, tooth for a… I forgot how that saying goes. It's a very old one, and not a good one, at that."  
"Ugh… fine," Begrudgingly, the Horstachio raised his hoof and carefully landed it on that exposed green-purple-magenta coloured gut, where he began rubbing it slowly. "Like I said… I have people who do this for me. I mean, it's not like I run around doing my own errands. The mere idea."  
He got no answer except for a few content, unintelligible murmurs, but continued anyway.  
"Like.. they don't do that anymore. It's been going… slow, recently."  
"How can you be going slow? You're the most famous piñata on the island, for goodness' sake!" Fergy suddenly interrupted his purrs to speak. "I mean… everyone loves you."  
"Everyone _loved_ me," he put the emphasis on the D. And that sounded really wrong. "It's almost as if my popularity has gone down the –… ahem, that's not a pretty word."  
"So you're saying you don't get enough money and you have to do menial tasks yourself? Welcome to the world of the normal piñatas, bro." Fergy chuckled a bit, even if he did feel a bit sorry. After all, Hudson had lived a life of fame and fortune all his life now, and would probably feel lost living the normal life.  
"Will you quit it with the 'bro' thing! We're step-brothers, and that's being generous!" By now, Hudson had ceased the tummy-rubbing and crossed his arms indignantly. "Why are you so keen on me anyway? It's not like I do anything you like. If anything, I'm more of a Langston-attractor than anything."  
Fergy rolled around to sit up, though he couldn't lean on the back of the couch so well because his hump was in the way. He silently cursed under his breath at his hump for being in the way like this. Hudson looked at him a bit pitiably.  
"Well, yeah… Paulie's been busy recently. We've grown really close, and with that I mean maybe a little closer than I ever felt with anyone, but he keeps saying that he has things to do. I'm lonely, Hudson. And it's not what you do, it's who you are," Fergy said and as he looked up to the larger piñata's eyes, his eyes sparkled. "It's just that I've always wanted a big brother to look after me, especially around now. I've… I never had one."  
Hudson was about to ask why, but realized that might've been a dumb question and decided against it. Instead he said; "But… we're so different. I have nothing to offer you that you care about and don't already have. All this pretty furniture? I had to sell it off to be able to pay my dinner a week ago. Didn't get much out of it either – that Bonboon was the only one who was vaguely interested, and you know that con-man…"  
He shook his head. "And not just that… the fact I'm actually declining in popularity is certainly not lightening up my mood. I'm being asked for less parties, and it's as if…"  
No. That would not only be terrible, it would also be really mean to say. Fergy wasn't the reason his popularity was going downhill. Or was he? No. Hudson was certain that wasn't the reason. Fergy was his friend. Sure, he got on his nerves sometimes, but he was still his friend, and, by now, his brother. Kind of.  
He looked at that gleeful pointy face and sighed.  
"I'm a nobody, Fergs," Hudson said, and his voice sounded sullen, which was something that was unusual on any day. "All I had was my fame, and now that's gone, I have nothing. I only cared about myself, and now, nobody cares about me."  
A silence fell, one that bordered on awkward. The two sat there for a while.  
"You have me, right?"  
He was kind of expecting Fergy to say that. Though he sometime was an annoying pest that seemed as if he had wrappers in his head instead of a brain, he knew when to care about his friends. Usually only so he himself would be better off in the end, but what was he to get out of a washed-up ex-celebrity Horstachio?  
"Yes," Hudson finally mumbled. "Yes, I have you…"  
His pride prevented him from saying much more than that. Suddenly, the brightly decorated room seemed cold and empty. Everything that was still left would be gone in a few days, maybe even sooner.  
Though Hudson was startled by the feeling of something rubbing up to him. Fergy was pushing his head under his larger companion's arm and laid his head down on his lap, trying to give him some comfort.  
"I don't care how unpopular you are," the Fudgehog muttered with a smile and closed eyes. "You're still my brother."  
Hudson sighed again, looking at his little somewhat-a-brother with an uncertain smile. Even if he did bring bad luck, it felt good having him around. But they would undoubtedly return to bickering as soon as they got the chance, though, of that he was pretty sure. But for now, he decided to let him lay there in peace.  
"And… I wanna be cool. Like you, big bro," Fergy said in a little, sincere voice.  
With a growing smile, Hudson reached out his free arm to pet his companion's head. "Don't worry about it, bro. You are almost as cool as I am."  
Luckily for him, or unluckily for him, we will never know, Fergy had drifted off to sleep. The day was long enough for him and he wasn't used to all that excitement. Seeing him lay there snuggled up was an oddly endearing sight, and Hudson played with the idea of trying to help him over his piñatapartyphobia and make him into a popular prize piñata, just like he was himself in his heyday. All it would take was some courage, willpower, a whole lot of exercise, and some time.  
"Tell you what, Fergs…" He wasn't entirely sure if Fergy would hear what he was about to say, but for all he knew, it might just have been for the better.  
"You're gonna make me proud someday. I'm sure about it."


End file.
